Through Hell
by The Flying Moose
Summary: PreHPB. Harry is depressed. This tells of how one accomplishes what so many others tried.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The attic door wasn't locked, but it very well could have been. The only person who ever went in or out was the moody young man who resided behind said door. The young man used to be a moody teenager then became a less moody man and then an outrageously moodier man. These stages were brought on by various on goings in his life such as death, destruction, and acceptance. He was beginning to drive his friends beyond insanity.

Harry was lying on his bed, staring at the all too familiar sight of old wooden rafters. There were a total 17 oak rafters that had 3-20 knot holes in each one. He had counted, several times. Counting and recounting was the only thing Harry could do to take his troubled mind off the Hell he had caused. How many people had died in the war? How many families would have empty seats at the table? How many of his friends had died? These were being repeated by the mocking voices of the people he had helped murder. Another voice was saying, "You did this. It's your entire fault, Harry. Why did you drag your friends into it?" Etc. He knew the prematurely deceased weren't whispering in his ear, but he believed what 'they' said. It was throwing him into a spiraling vortex of depression that seemingly no one could pull him out of. This is the story of how his friends tried to do the seemingly impossible.

Mr. Weasley called him down to dinner just as he had called him to dinner everyday since the return of the family. Usually Harry ignored Mr. Weasley, trying not to remember the reason Arthur was calling him, trying to forget that he would never hear Molly's maternal voice ever again. But this time Harry was hungry. He begrudgingly got up and off his bed, steadying himself on the floorboard, his legs wobbly as Jell-o. He slowly made his way downstairs, leaning on the wall for stability, and was seen by the entire household for the first time that summer. Jaws dropped.

"Thank Gods!" Fred said. "He lives!" Leave it to a twin to try and lighten the mood. Everyone else was too shocked to speak. Stunned by his appearance and by his appearance. His hair was so tangled it looked like some animal had made a nest of it. A deadened, vacant look filled his formerly vivid green eyes. They were red from lack of sleep and tears. He looked scarily similar to Sirius right after he escaped. Right then every person sitting at that table decided that something had to be done.

Harry sat down without a word and filled his plate with a little bit of everything. Even collard greens that he was known for hating. It didn't matter. Nothing had any taste. That must have died with Mrs. Weasley. Nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same. Harry broke down once again. He immediately went back upstairs, not even touching the food he had heaped on his plate.

The silence at the dinner table continued. Finally, a very saddened and frustrated Ginny got up and took the plate up the stairs to the crying man's room.

Knock, knock, "Harry. It's Ginny. I brought your plate. Can I come in?" No answer. She took that as a yes and walked in. Harry was lying on his bed staring at the familiar sight of the rafters, a tear rolling down his blotched cheek. "I'll set it on the chair." She said in a steady voice as she set the plate down and started for the door. "You're gonna be alright eventually, Harry." And the door closed again.

"Poor Harry," Mr. Weasley sighed, "Just imagine what he must be going through having seen so much."

"Yeah, but I don't think that that's why he like that though," Ginny re-entered the room, "He's doing what he always has done. He blames himself for the death of everyone who fought on our side! It's ridiculous. He didn't make Mum join the Order! He didn't make any of us do anything. Holy shit, he's being selfish."

"Selfish?" Percy interjected. "He gave his childhood and his innocence so that the terror would stop. He has a right to be depressed."

"Oh yes and no one helped him at all. None of us were standing next to him the whole time."

"Hey! Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Ron piped up, "He's been through Hell! Give him a break!" various noises of affirmation were heard. Ginny let out a sound of exasperation and went up to her room, muttering about how stupid people are.

"She can be so insensitive sometimes," Ron said.

"Maybe it is time for us to talk to him. Holding in all those emotions can't be healthy." Hermione said all-knowingly.

"Yes, but who's going to talk to him?" George asked. Everyone turned to stare at Ron and Hermione.

"I'll go." Hermione got up and headed up the stairs to the 'forbidden' attic.

* * *

Being the girl in the trio, as unordinary as Hermione is, she took on the role of the matron as well as the maiden. She kept them on track in school and tried to keep them, and herself, in line. To outsiders, Hermione seemed to be the tagalong nag who wouldn't leave Ron and Harry alone, but she was just as much their best friend as they were each other's, with the exception that she was a girl, and would listen and comfort them when needed. It was needed now, whether Harry knew it or not!

"Harry? It's 'Mione. Can I come in?" She wanted to ask before she let herself in.

There was no answer. She walked in and cautiously sat at the foot of the bed. "Harry? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Hermione," his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm just peachy! Lots of people died because of me and I'm just thrilled." He turned on his side.

"It's not your fault. People chose to join the cause. You never asked one of us to risk our lives by joining the Order." Hermione said as she tried to help her friend. "If I remember correctly, we didn't speak for a month because you forbid me to fight. Won't let some of those memories out. It isn't good to hold them in like you are. Please Harry! It's for your own good."

"No, Hermione." Harry sat up suddenly, "Many people died because they believed I would defeat Voldemort, and happiness would fill the world. Guess what? Many children are growing up like me now, an orphan. What happy times are they going to see? Parents will never see their daughter or son's laughing face again because their child fought and died. Mr. Weasley goes to sleep every night with no one by his side. They died because I didn't defeat him fast enough. Because I didn't do it alone. I'm going to save you and everyone else from what I saw because I didn't save those people." Harry sighed as tears of sadness and rage ran down his cheek. "Get out, Hermione. You will never understand." The door slammed closed after her.

Still seated at the table the redheads waited impatiently for a sign. This was their sign: SLAM! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! SLAM!

"I'll go calm 'Mione down." Ron said tiredly.

"Guess that didn't go so well." Bill said leaning back in his chair.

"Nope." Charlie replied.

There was an awkward silence followed by a CRACK!

"Hey, Remus." Arthur called to his close friend. "Will you go up and talk to Harry?"

"That's why I came over. It's time he rejoined the world." And Remus too strode up the stairs to enter the land of the angst-y.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Slowly and surely Remus climbed the stairs. Unfortunately his mind was racing, full of questions and worries. Sure he had been a teacher, but never had he dealt with anything like this. 'What would James do?' He followed that train of thought until the door jumped in front of him. 'Here goes nothing.'

Knock, knock. Remus heard a disgruntled groan from the other side of the door.

"Harry, can I come in?"

"Go ahead. No one else seems to care that I want to be alone, so why should you."

Remus opened the door. "It's not healthy to be alone for such a long time." He sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "All we want is to know 'why'."

"Because I feel miserable! That's why! If I rejoined the world I'll still feel miserable. Why let my emotions mess with others' emotions.

"Just because you lock yourself up here doesn't mean we don't worry about you, or feel some of your pain." He signed. "Your parents would hate to see you like this. Lily would drag your arse out of this attic and make you talk."

"Yeah, well, Mum's not here is she? She died. She died because of me. If I didn't exist, you would still have your best friends. How can you stand me?"

"Your parents would have fought Voldemort anyway. There's a strong possibility that they would be dead"

"But I wouldn't have been my fault!"

Remus was getting frustrated. "You know, you may have been through Hell, but all your doing is wallowing in self pity. You've brought this misery upon yourself." The door closed with an eerie calmness as the werewolf left.

* * *

"How aggravating is he?" Fred sighed frustratedly. Over the period of two months, the entire Weasley family and half of the Order had tried to get Harry to come out. So far they had only managed to piss everyone off. 

"It's a lost case!" Ron piped up reluctant to give up on his friend.

"All I wanted to do was help him." Hermione's eyes welled up.

"Dammit!" Ginny stood up. "That's the last god damn fucking straw!"

Her root beer brown eyes darkened till they were almost black. The air around her seemed to crackle. She stormed upstairs, a path forming as fast as people could get out of her way. Noises of anger and frustration were heard throughout the house. The door whipped open and slammed shut, ripping it off its hinges.

"Maybe we should get out of here." Charlie suggested. He had handled dragons, but Hell hath no fury like his pissed off baby sister.

"Yeah…that might be a good idea." George was edging towards the door. Everyone in the house filed out quickly not wanting to witness the explosion.

* * *

Ginny ignored the broken door as she marched over to Harry. She slapped him. Hard. 

"What the Hell was that for!" yelped Harry.

"For being a pompous, stuck-up, snot-nosed, English, giant, twerp, scumbag, fuck-face, dickhead, asshole!"

"Harry's jaw went slack. No one had every said anything like that to him before. At least not since the Dursley's and even they didn't go to that extreme.

"Oh don't look so shocked. Everyone in the house thinks this. I'm the only one with the balls to tell the fucking boy-who-fucking-lived."

"I've been through Hell, Ginevra. You try getting over something like that. Oh wait, you can't because you can't even fathom the pain I've been through!"

"Bullshit! I've been through just as much as you have. Everyone who was in the war went through fucking Hell. Fleur we through Hell when Bill died and left her to raise Teddy alone, and she has recovered. Remus was kidnapped and tortured plus he lost every best friend he had; yet he recovered. He's even found love. When he's with Tonks he's happier then I've ever seen him. Half of my class was killed and the other half has been emotionally scarred, but according to McGonagal all of the survivors are coming back to school this fall." Her voice was growing hoarse. "Then there's me, Harry. You said I haven't experienced pain like you have, but that's a bald-faced lie and you know it. I lost my mother. She was my best friend in some ways. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm never going to be able to sob on her shoulder about some stupid boy, or wake up to the smell of her cooking. But even if Mum had lived I've still been through a lot. Tom Riddle was my best friend because no one else acknowledged my existence unless necessary. Even Ron, my closest brother who used to play with me and protect me from the twins only to get pranked instead, ignored me. He listened to my secrets and befriended me with his charm. He used me and betrayed me, Harry! You don't know what it's like to blackout then wake up somewhere else with blood covering your body. You knew what you were battling. I was fighting something I didn't know existed. And I was fighting it by myself. That was Hell too.

They were both crying.

"Harry, I know how you feel! You can't keep distancing yourself from people! You think you're helping us, but you're not. Ever since Cedric died you've pushed us away. First Ron and Hermione. Gradually you left us all, one by one. It was not your fight alone and this isn't either!" She closed her eyes and wiped her tears on her sleeve.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You have to figure it out yourself. I'll be downstairs when you figure it out." She walked out the door.

His mind whirred with an overabundance of information. How could some one wrap their mind around a concept like that? In trying to be selfless he had been selfish! But isn't it the thought that counts? Then again he ended up doing exactly what he was trying to prevent!

"DAMMIT!" He yelled. Why hadn't anyone told him? And further more what was he going to do? He shouted this last internal question at the top of his lungs. Harry, being the strong man he is, was over taken by his tears of confusion, frustration and sorrow.

After a tedious half-hour and much more yelling, Harry heard the soft patter of slippers climbing the stairs. "Harry?" Ginny murmured. "Telephone." Since the fall of good ol' Tom, good muggle relations have been at an all time high, so almost all magical families have telephones.

Harry confusedly took the phone. "Hello?"

"Screaming about it won't help."

"What?" Harry asked, rhetorically.

"I said –"

Harry cut the strange American off, "Well, what do you suggest." It came out more bitter then he meant, but Harry wasn't exactly having a good day.

"No need to snipe!"

"Sorry." Harry muttered.

"It's ok. Anyway, the obvious thing to do is right in front of your face! Or to be more specifically down the stairs sitting on the couch." Harry had a look on his face of pure and utter confusion. The mysterious voice must have sensed this for it piped up and said, "Talk about it you dolt!" The voice hung up. Harry was so dazed at the incredible obviousness of the stranger's advice that he didn't turn off the phone. He was roused out of his stupor by the annoying sound phones make when they're left off the hook.

'Right then. I'll do it!' He thought to himself. 'After I take a shower.' For the second time since the summer started, Harry ventured downstairs.

* * *

**A/N**: And now, the brand new thank yous!

**Been**: Thanks, I'll try to get more diligent and update more often

**JerryGirl**: 'Twas me on the phone. I know, very Mary-Sue-ish.

**Silver Warrior**: They don't call me a drama queen for nothing!

**Catchy Pen Name**: Really? Well, I try.

**Panda Slippers**: You are the first review next to my beta, but she's insane. Of course it's not a one-shot.

**Miss Effie**: I do so much for you. Thanks for all the morale boosting, not that my ego needs to be bigger.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The worn floorboards creaked under Harry's bare feet. Carefully he made his way hall, trying to remember exactly where the room of bath was located. After checking the first three doors he opened the forth to see a fluffy blue towel and a fluffy blue washcloth neatly laid out on the counter. He opened the shower curtain and adjusted the water temperature. Once he found that perfect level of warmth, the kind that warms you to the bone but doesn't make you uncomfortable, he began to strip down. As he stepped under the gentle flow of water, he felt like years of terrible things were washing off. The tender kiss of such a pure substance made his heavy burden lighter. For five minutes he stood there, letting the water caress his body. Eventually he realized that he had to get whatever help Ginny had to offer. After all, he couldn't stay in the shower for his whole life no matter how tempting.

Harry reached for a little white bar of soap and his fluffy blue washcloth. He scrubbed himself until his skin was rubbed raw and red, trying to get every speck of physical and emotional dirt that he had accumulated. Grabbing a bottle of shampoo, he smelled it to see if it was of the masculine persuasion. It wasn't. It smelt of sweet things, happiness and roses. Reluctantly, he put the shampoo back and grabbed the blue bottle. After a totally blissful one hour, Harry got out of the shower feeling much better.

The towel was warm and smelled fresh. Vigorously, he dried himself off and reached for his clothes. He picked up his shirt and began to put it on, but then he drew back in disgust. The smell emanating from his clothes was that of something very dead. Harry did the only thing one could do in such a situation. He threw them in the trash. The smell was beginning to permeate the room. Hastily he tightened his towel around his waist and rushed out into the hall.

Hurriedly, Harry raced towards Ron's room. He knew there must be something fresh to wear in Ron's room. Bam! He ran into something solid, and almost lost his towel.

"There you are. I was wondering where you went." Ginny said with her hands on her hips. She seemed not to notice that Harry was mostly naked, but she did.

Harry on the other hand blushed ferociously from head to foot. "I…um…need to get some clothes…" He quickly scooted around her. Feeling stupid, Harry continued to Ron's room.

Ron's room hadn't changed at all, at least at first glance. Harry took in the familiar sight and noticed a few changes. There were books. Not comic books or even schoolbooks. There were thick books, nonfiction, fiction, prose and poetry. All books he had only seen with one person. Hermione.

Harry spotted his trunk under a pile of particularly brightly colored books. He began to gently set them aside in a neat pile when something caused him to yell in horror and disgust.

Ginny rushed into Ron's room, her footsteps reverberated through the empty house. She burst through the door. There stands Harry in his towel, rigidly still, his mouth open and a look of pure terror on his face.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Ginny was frantic with worry.

Slowly he raised his arm and shakily pointed at his trunk. Ginny's eyes followed his finger. They rested on the offending 'thing' on Harry's trunk. Then while Harry was still doing a very good impression of Monk's "The Scream" Ginny began laughing like a very silly person. When she regained her composure, she slapped Harry for the second time that day. The pain brought Harry out of his reverie.

"You scared the shit out of me! I thought Old Moldy was back or something!" Ginny continued to pummel Harry.

"Stop that!" he whined, "That scared the shit out of me!" He reinforced his pointing.

Ginny picked up the offending object. "It's a bra."

"I know!" Harry still sounded scandalized.

"Well, I figured that I would clear that up since you act like you've never seen one." Harry glared at her and blushed.

"The question is: what is it doing here?" Ginny just smacked her forehead and walked out.

"But…why…" Harry's eyes widened as realization hit him like an acme anvil.

* * *

**A/N**: What? No reviews? I'm so ashamed! 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harry ran downstairs "Since when?" His towel, forgotten in his shock, was hanging precariously low on his hips.

Ginny turned away from the teakettle. As her gaze landed on the scantily clad man, the blush that made her family famous crept into her cheeks. Thankfully Ginny was able to keep her stare steady. "Go put some pants on, then ask me!" The sensible part of her mind won the argument and wouldn't let her jump him.

Blushing from head to toe (most of which was showing). Harry trudged back up stairs to clothe himself. Ginny followed soon after to her room. For some reason she was feeling a bit warm.

Clad in jeans and a fitted green t-shirt, Harry went back down to the kitchen. Ginny had apparently disappeared somewhere. Harry took a seat at the kitchen table. He was dying for an explanation. Obviously, Ron had a girl in the room. A promiscuous girl at that from the style of the bra. The question was who? Who, could put up with Ron long enough to be in a relationship with him? Harry jiggled his foot impatiently while he pondered. After, what seemed like an eternity, (but was actually three minutes) he got up to get himself some tea.

Just as he started to pour himself a cup when he heard Ginny pull a chair out and sit down. Harry glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge her presence. His glance stopped being a glance and became a gaze and then a gawk. There was Ginny, just sitting there smiling. She had changed into a simple blue tank top and jeans. There was nothing different about her, yet at the same time, there was.

After 5th year and the fiasco at the Ministry, Ginny had joined the Trio. She was as close to Harry as Ron or Hermione, but neither Ron nor Hermione had ever made or would ever make him feel like this, even if they sat in a chair wearing a tank top and jeans.

"Harry?" He was brought back to reality by the pain of scalding tea.

"Oy!" He dropped the kettle and jerked his hand away from his overflowing cup. He brought his singed thumb to his mouth.

"Oh sweetie!" Ginny said with a pitying giggle. "Let me get you some ice."

She got some ice out of the fridge, put it in a cloth and took it to Harry. "Let me see," she said, matronly.

Reluctantly, Harry took his thumb out of his mouth and showed it to Ginny. It actually didn't hurt all that much, but he enjoyed Ginny doting on him.

"There you go!" She fixed the ice so it would stay on his thumb. She was beginning to sound more like the regular Ginny and less like 'I'm-going-to-slap-some-sense-into-you' Ginny. Harry sat in his chair at the table. "So, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

A blank stare crossed Harry's face.

"Oh yes! The offending article of lingerie."

The events of the day quickly flashed through his mind, refreshing Harry's memory. "Yeah! Who's Ron's girl?" He demanded.

Ginny's jaw dropped "You don't know?" Harry shook his head. "Wow." She murmured.

"Well, go on then! Tell me!"

Ginny thought for a second then said "No." Harry was confused. "I think we should discuss something else first."

"Oh. That." His mood sank a substantial amount. He didn't want to talk about 'That.' 'That' brought up emotions Harry didn't like emoting.

Ginny watched as Harry began to withdraw into himself again. "I'm just going to sit here and wait for you to start." As much as Ginny wanted to hold him and tell him everything was ok, she knew that that could come later. Right now, she had to stay stern. It was the only way to make him talk. So, she sat.

Harry was torn. He was desperately trying to keep these memories locked inside, yet they were tearing him up.

Harry sighed resignedly, "I don't know where to start."

"Just talk."

Harry stared at his hands. Then, suddenly, looked up into Ginny's kind brown eyes. "Why me?" The amount of pain in his voice was almost overwhelming. "Under all my thoughts lie those two words." He pounded the table. "I'm a murderer! People died because they were associated with me!" Tears of sadness and anger rolled down his cheeks. "Cedric died, Hagrid died, Neville died, Sirius died, Bill died, Molly died," a sob racked his form, "Dumbledore died," He was choking on his words. "My parents would be here. How can anyone say that I'm good? How can people still care about me? I don't deserve to have anyone care about me!" Harry couldn't say anything else; his sorrow had robbed him of his words.

Ginny got up and went to Harry. Gently she helped him stand and walk to the living room. He clung to her, as though afraid she would disappear. She guided him to the sofa and sat down next to him, holding him and murmuring small comforts. They sat for a long time, clutching each other. Ginny waited for Harry's sobs to die down, to respond to him.

"I care about you."

"Why?" His eyes looked like those of a traumatized 5-year old.

"Because you care." She sighed, "People would have died anyway. It was a war! We all fought in it and we all would have fought even if you weren't here. The only person responsible for anyone dying is Voldemort. No one blames you for anything. No one except you."

"Really?" A hint of hope edged into his voice.

"Really." It never ceased to amaze Ginny. Harry lived so much of his life without love that the idea of anyone caring about him seemed ridiculous in his mind. She slowly stroked his hair. "We all love you, Harry. The memories won't go away, but you have to stop blaming yourself. Please!"

Harry looked up into Ginny's eyes. His stare was so intense; Ginny could almost feel his emotions. They were lost in each other's eyes; neither noticed their lips slowly moving. Then, they kissed. Unlike the gaze preceding it, the kiss was gentle and comforting. It exuded love.

Slowly they broke apart. Both participants quickly looked away and blushed. Acting as though nothing had happened, Harry and Ginny returned to their previous position. Harry's head rested softly on Ginny's shoulder, his arms hug her waist. Ginny held Harry, continuing to play with his messy black locks.

Gradually, Ginny felt Harry relax his breathing growing deeper. She glanced at his face and saw that he was sound asleep. Carefully, she loosened his grip around her waist. She got up, laid Harry down on the sofa and got a blanket to cover him up. Ginny got the book she had been reading before this entire hullabaloo started and sat down with Harry's head in her lap. His face looked so peaceful, something that rarely ever happened. She brushed his hair out of his eyes and surprised herself by just barely kissing his scar. Harry shifted and murmured something to himself. If only Ginny had listened closely, she would have heard, "I love you, Ginny Weasley."

* * *

**A/N**: Much better this time.

**JerryGirl:** Harry is very slappable so I wouldn't doubt that she did it on purpose. I love the shampoo too. I think we should come up with a new brand.

**Rubber-duckiesofdoom**: Thanks! I'm so glad that you find humor in this. I try to throw in little bits and pieces amidst the mass amounts of melodrama.

**Miss Effie**: I had so much fun with the shower part, after all I love boys sans shirts.


	5. A Statement

The following statement is not all that important:

I wanted to tell you all that I will not be changing either of my stories to fit canon. It would be silly and would mess up my plot.

If this information leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth, please tell me why said information bothers you.

Updates shall be posted within the month … hopefully.

That is all,

Moose

P.S. Reposting might occur, but it will only be for formatting. That is, offically, all.


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